


the newcomers down the street

by haatomune



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Host Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-11-02 06:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haatomune/pseuds/haatomune
Summary: When he had announced his plans to leave the host club and open his own in Market Chipping, he had been met with roaring disapproval, Calcifer the loudest, but why would Howl ever listen to reason?





	the newcomers down the street

**Author's Note:**

> A completely self-indulgent modern-ish AU of host!Howl that no one asked for.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

When he had announced his plans to leave the host club in Kingsbury and open his own – a host club/bar hybrid in Market Chipping, he had been met with roaring disapproval. There was no love lost from the other hosts, of course – with Howl gone then they at least now had a shot at being the Number One of the club. The club’s manager though, was devastated at the dent in the revenue after Howl’s departure.

So the only somewhat neutral party he could get an actual opinion from was his bartender friend, also his only confidante. Calcifer had loudly protested, claiming how terrible of an idea it would be, how impossible that host club culture could take root outside of a city like Kingsbury, and how _utterly_ _stupid_ that he thought he could get away from his crazy stalker, codenamed the Witch, by opening his own store. He was even more against it now that Howl told him that he was going to be his business partner. There was no way he was going to be involved when stalkers were in the picture.

Needless to say, those reasons fell on deaf ears, and Howl had proceeded to present to Calcifer, with an absolutely unnecessary flourish, the design plans and the finished establishment of ‘Magic’.

“This is stupid,” Calcifer repeated. “The stupidest thing that you’ve come up with, and you’ve done a lot of stupid things already.”

“Give it a week, Calcifer,” Howl said cheerfully, “you’ll see that this is a _brilliant_ decision.”

\--

The lot that was up for rent was on the busier side of town, sandwiched between a restaurant and a clothing boutique, backed by the railway and the residential area behind that. Howl rejected any ideas for any advertising, and a few days prior to its grand opening, he told Calcifer that he’d just stroll around town to scout out his competitors and target audience (“shouldn’t you have done that _before_ you signed the goddamn lease?!” Calcifer shouted after him, at the door, just a split second too late).

Calcifer would also have to (grudgingly) admit that Howl himself was more effective than any possible marketing ideas they could have engineered.

So while Calcifer got the inside of the shop properly for opening, Howl meandered through Market Chipping, past cafés and bakeries, some beauty parlours, two little malls, the Mayor’s square, some small tailor shops (he made a mental note of these for when he needed a wardrobe refresh), and he lastly rounded the residential area. He was pleasantly surprised to find a dainty flower shop here. He walked closer, drawn by the colourful display. Not even the finest florist in Kingsbury had blooms as beautiful as these.

“Do you need help with anything?”

Howl jolted, his nose almost smashing right in the midst of petals and into the pollen; he didn’t realize he was leaning in so close, so curious and intent on finding out why they differed from the flowers he was used to seeing. “Oh, yes, um,” he tried for a smooth recovery but failed.

But he had obviously been too slow, because the girl told him to take his time, and turned to greet a new customer, whom, by the sound of things, was rather a regular at the store. Howl clenched and unclenched his fingers; he had never been told to wait before (_he_ was the one who could make others wait on him), and he was never second in importance.

Market Chipping was different from Kingsbury in a lot of ways, he was finding out.

In the time Howl had gotten through his inner monologue, the girl was already wrapping up a dozen of roses for the other customer. He caught the end of their conversation.

“–I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Michael,” she was reassuring him as she passed over the bouquet.

“Thanks Sophie,” the man referred to as Michael responded, rather weakly, clutching the roses as if his life depended on them. “It helps that your flowers are the best in town.”

“You mean the _only_ florist in town,” she laughed, and it sounded like stars twinkling in the night sky. Howl blinked. “Now go on, let me hear some good news before the day is out.”

Michael thanked her again as he half-jogged out the store and down the road.

Howl looked up at the same time Sophie directed her gaze at him. This time he was ready.

“Can—”

“I haven’t seen you around before,” she interrupted him (‘what’s _wrong_ with this woman and doing _everything_ outside of his expectations?!’). The stare she gave him made him feel naked, as if she could see right through him.

“A busybody, aren’t you?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. He mentally slapped himself; what kind of behaviour was this as a host? His general rule of thumb was: treat everyone as a potential customer. He had never been this sarcastic before. And here he was, picking an argument with a girl he had known for all of one minute and had only exchanged a handful of words.

She looked mildly offended. He felt a childish surge of triumph.

“One can never be too careful when there are suspicious strangers loitering about,” she sniffed. “Now, do you actually need something, or are you just about on your way?”

He gaped at her. The _nerve_ of this woman! “As a matter of fact, yes,” he bit out. “Throw together a flower basket. My friend’s store is opening this Saturday. Have them delivered first thing in the morning.”

“Delivery is not—”

Howl waved his hand dismissively at her. “That’s not my problem. You can figure that out on your own, Ms. Nose.”

“Very well then,” Sophie said through a tight-lipped smile, and he felt that childish triumph return. She calculated his total and he paid for the deposit. “Do you need any messages with the flowers? And the address?”

“I’ll leave the message up to you. As for the address...” He scribbled onto the paper she had with his order on it. “There. Don’t be late, Ms. Nose.”

It was only after he left that he realized he had told her “my friend’s store”, instead of “my store” – he brushed this thought aside after a millisecond since it’d sound weirder to get flowers for himself anyway – and upon his return, he regaled Calcifer with his encounter at the florist, failing to mention any of the things he had originally set out to discover.

\--

“‘_Give it a week,_’” Calcifer mimicked Howl’s words, annoyingly similar in pitch and intonation. “Can’t you do _something_ about,” he struggled for words while waving at the storefront window, “about that _mob_?”

“That ‘mob’, my friend, is business. Why should I turn them away?” Howl flashed a pearly grin at the crowd of women gathered, and their shrieks pierced through the walls and door.

Calcifer groaned. “We open at six in the evening. It’s only noon right now! Don’t these people have work to do?!”

What Howl had failed to mention after his strolls pre-opening was the number of heads that turned and then followed him back, to find out more about this handsome stranger that suddenly appeared in their town. Word travelled, and by grand opening day, more women than the store’s capacity could handle had flocked over, bursting at the seams with curiosity and buzzing with excitement. They were thrilled that someone had brought in something so exotic and _nouveau_. Imagine, a man who would shower you in compliments so long as you buy him a drink or two!

Though, there _was_ one girl who came and looked just about as excited as Calcifer when he first heard of Howl opening this store. She had dropped off a flower basket and asked for the rest of the money – which Howl had _also_ completely forgot to mention, but Calcifer put two and two together and concluded that she wasn’t here to scam him. It was a very nicely arranged basket, he admitted.

“So you’re the ‘friend’ who owns this place?”

“Nah, this store’s all Howl’s idea, I’m just helping out.”

She turned much more personable after that. “Oh! Well. In that case, can I add something to the message card?”

“Sure,” Calcifer said, amused. He liked her spirit; not a lot of women could be this level-headed when Howl was involved. He laughed out loud when he read what she wrote. “Oh my god, Howl’s going to throw a fit! You know what, come over whenever. Drink’s on me. Oh – oh wait I never introduced myself, sorry. I’m Calcifer. And you are?”

Her smile widened. “Sophie. Sophie Hatter.”

\--

The iron rule that all hosts have to follow, if nothing else, was that they could never get attached. 

And Howl usually had no trouble doing that – told the ladies that no, they couldn’t take him home even though they were the last customer for the day; no, sex wasn’t part of a host’s job; no, they’re all special to him and just don’t make him _choose_; no, they couldn’t just book him for the rest of the week because those appointment slots were already filled up; and _no_, they couldn’t pay extra to jump the line (the last one had been tempting though, the extra money was always welcome). Howl was always good at keeping them at arm’s length, seductive and charming enough to make them want to keep coming back for more, strict and polite enough to draw a line when they asked for _more_-more.

Of course, it would be disastrous to have a repeat of the Witch fiasco, and he was definitely not keen on upping and moving to another city yet again, so soon.

“Have you ever thought of just quitting this business so you don’t have to deal with that,” Calcifer had asked him dryly when Howl brought it up one day. He shook his head. It wasn’t all because he was a host; he knew that it would happen regardless of whatever profession he took up because of his looks and personality. (“Vain,” Calcifer had muttered, “Sophie wasn’t off the mark at all and she’s only talked to you for five minutes.” Howl became very interested why they were so well acquainted.)

So, after having pretty much all of Market Chipping’s ladies lined up outside his store and he had catalogued all their names, hobbies, favourites, and dislikes, Howl made it a personal mission to get the attention of the one woman who refused to speak with him.

His first chance, surprisingly, was when he spotted her at the bar. Sophie looked completely out of place in her turtleneck and jeans, nursing the one drink while Calcifer made her laugh. There were a few other men on either side of her, and though they weren’t chatting her up, Howl could see they had looked her up and down, at least more than twice.

Which was normal, he told himself. And this was Calcifer’s turf. It was fine. It was fine – she wasn’t _ugly_, per se, (he had eyes, thank you), but she was probably way too much of a stick-in-the-mud to know what to do if one of them _had_ approached her, ha.

He turned back to the woman tugging on his arm (she had so much make-up on it was hard to tell what she _actually_ looked like), and he smiled, diverting to a different topic so that she wouldn’t know he hadn’t been listening to a single word she said.

The second time was much more of a shock to see her come in with two other women _for_ him – by their appearance and closeness he guessed they were siblings, but by god her fashion sense was the worst of them all. She came dressed in yet another sweater while the other two were in dresses that clung to their figures (Howl had expressed his appreciation for that and they blushed prettily, while Sophie just scowled).

She ended up sulking the whole night, almost blending into the sofa, while her sisters – Lettie and Martha, he learned – laughed and kept him on his toes. At some point, Sophie couldn’t bear it any longer and stormed to the washroom, and returned to the bar instead. Howl felt a twitch of annoyance at that.

“Oh don’t mind Sophie,” Lettie chuckled. “She’s just too prim and proper. She doesn’t get the fun out of going to clubs. It’s her first time, right Martha?”

“Yeah, and you’ll never catch Sophie here with you alone,” she giggled. “She totally didn’t want to come here tonight either, but she couldn’t say no to me.”

‘But fine if she’s at the bar with Calcifer,’ Howl thought, grimacing internally. “How’d you make her do that?”

“It’s Sophie’s present for my wedding!” Martha gushed, and Lettie lit up with just as much excitement. “She goes on and on about how much she hates it but she’s just a big softie... she really is the best sister.” She sighed, eyes growing a bit damp and uncertain. “Lettie, what if I don’t like married life after all...”

Lettie and Howl spoke at the same time.

“Please Martha, you know Michael—”

“Now how can a bride-to-be—”

“—_Howl Jenkins_, you have some nerve making my sister cry!”

Well, at least she spoke to him. Even if she was angry. Even if she shouted his full name (his heart did a flip flop – where did that even come from?). Even if he felt like he was scolded by someone who cared about him – and it had been a long time since he had experienced that.

\--

He waited until the shop was empty before he entered with a clearing of his throat.

Sophie looked up. “Oh, it’s you.” And went back to pruning her flowers. 

“I came to, um—” Where was his usual eloquence, dammit?!

“It’s fine, Martha explained afterwards. Sorry I yelled at you like that.”

“Oh.” He was again short of words. Seriously, how could she just – do that like it was nothing?

“Is that all?” She asked warily. “If you’re not getting anything, I’d like to close up for lunch.”

“Um, yes, actually—” He made a wild grab for the closest flower without looking at it. “This one.”

“For one of the ladies tonight?” She raised an eyebrow.

He refrained from answering.

“Never thought I’d see the day a host on his way to settling down,” she laughed.

“Huh?” He was getting good at this – one-word responses to this woman.

“This is a gardenia you picked up. I usually get them for wedding orders.” Howl watched her deft fingers handle the wrapping and ribbon, almost missing her question. “So which unfortunate Market Chipping lady is it?”

Howl took the single flower from Sophie, looked at it for a moment, up at her, and did the exchange a few more times.

She tapped her foot. “Well? If you’re not going to tell me—”

He thrust the gardenia in her face and blurted, “Wanna grab lunch together?”

\--

Sophie had declined, of course, taken aback by his abrupt invitation. With a somewhat apologetic smile on her face, but nonetheless had closed the door in his face, him standing on the stairs leading up to the shop, with that blasted gardenia hanging limply in his hand.

Howl moaned about it the entire afternoon to Calcifer, before the shop opened. The bartender only rolled his eyes.

“Not that you can blame Sophie,” (here Howl sighed even more dramatically – he did that when he knew Calcifer was right, but just hated to admit it), “but at least she didn’t _slam_ the door in your face?”

“What difference does that make? Augh, I can’t believe I actually did that! Me! Number One Host of Kingsbury! Who has all the women throwing themselves at my feet! Why did I ask out the plainest girl in this town when she doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me?”

“If only your customers can hear you talk right now,” Calcifer sniggered. “And you aren’t the Number One Host of Kingsbury anymore.”

Howl moaned some more.

Calcifer amused himself with this Howl, whom he’d never really had the chance to see. It was nice to see him so out of his element – that he could still be a human outside of his host personality. For all the cheesy lines he used on a regular basis, Howl was actually inexperienced in love. They had been friends for years now, and he had confided that there had never been a heart-throbbing moment. None of the women had made him _really_ want them. There was still a piece of him that was holding out for it, waiting for it.

Personally, Calcifer preferred him like this – he was a lot younger, a lot more genuine, a lot funnier (at his own expense), and a lot more vulnerable than what he let on.

“I can’t believe she called me by my full name and I _reacted_ to it. Why did you even tell her my full name? You know in a host club we only go by our first!”

“I—wait a minute, what? You got a kick out of Sophie doing _what_?”

“I don’t _know_ what this is! If I did then I wouldn’t be this frustrated!”

He lapsed into a thoughtful silence, the wheels turning in his head at that bit of revelation. “I will say one thing, Howl, I value Sophie as a friend. If you chase after her as one of your conquests for your stupid pride, I will not hesitate to end you.” He drew a slicing motion across his throat with his thumb, and he relished in that slightly stunned look on Howl’s face.

\--

Calcifer’s advice had been: start fresh and be himself.

He argued that that was _exactly_ what happened the first time he met her at the flower shop, and look how well that turned out.

Calcifer’s follow-up advice had been: be less of a pompous ass and don’t assume that Sophie can be won over by how he treats women inside his host club.

So his battle plan was to try to get her to warm up to him with more flowers and a lunch date.

She was cautious – he knew that she more than likely didn’t want to be seen with him, because people love to gossip – but little by little, she began to open up to him. At least she wasn’t as abrupt with him anymore, and their conversations had turned more meaningful (_and_ he was finally out of that one-word phase, thank god). By the twenty-second afternoon in a row, she finally acquiesced to pastry and tea. Ecstatic, he promised to return the next day with some of the best of Cesari’s – after all, it wouldn’t do for the rest of Market Chipping to see that he was favouring someone when everyone _else_ was clamouring for his attention.

Later that night, after he whisked the last woman out and Calcifer closed the bar, he sagged in one of the plush armchairs. His mind turned to what he had thought earlier that day – _why_ was it bothering him that he didn’t want anyone to see him with Sophie Hatter?

“What’s wrong with you today? You were all happy when you came back this afternoon and now you’re just like a pile of useless trash.”

“I’m seeing Sophie tomorrow...”

Calcifer rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you been doing that every day for the past three weeks?”

“No, I mean—I’m _seeing_ her tomorrow.”

“Oh!” For a second he was glad this was finally going somewhere (it was tiring to listen to all of the failed attempts), but he narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “Hang on, this better not be the I-got-her-to-pay-attention-to-me-now-so-I-can-dump-her-after scenario. If it is then I’m going right over to Sophie’s to warn her.”

“No! I’m bringing her cake so we can enjoy it over at her place.”

“Sophie’s letting you step foot inside the house?!”

Howl sighed, long and suffering. “I wish...just her flower shop.”

“So nothing different.”

“Nothing different,” he agreed, “so I don’t know why I’m so _restless_. I don’t get why I’m scared that people will see us together.”

Calcifer clasped a hand to his shoulder. “Is that Howl talking, or is that _Howl_ talking?”

He mulled over that the entire night.

\--

He arrived just a few minutes after the start of her break.

“Hey,” she greeted, “come on in. Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess here today, I’ve got some last minute orders...” She gestured at the small table behind the counter, barely enough room for two people. “Do you mind? If I just finish this off?”

“Take your time, I’m the one intruding anyway.” He didn’t say that he liked watching her work. His stomach dropped a notch and bounced back up. “I got you Cesari’s famous cream cake, I hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay,” Sophie smiled. Although it was aimed at the bouquet she was currently dressing up, Howl still felt that fall-rise in his stomach again. “It’s one of my favourites. I always get it with Lettie and Martha.”

“That’s a relief. But if I had gotten something you hated, I could’ve had two pieces,” he joked, not that he could’ve done that at the moment.

“Har, har,” she rolled her eyes, setting aside the flowers. “How much do I owe you for the cake?”

“Oh my god Sophie,” he laughed, “ever so proper. You don’t need to pay for anything.”

“Yeah but—”

“No buts, it’s my treat. Plus, your company is more than enough.”

The last bit had slipped out unintentionally. Howl hurried to backpedal, but stopped short at the faint hue of pink on Sophie’s cheekbones. “Well, you know, it’s just how we got off on the wrong foot...”

The rest of her break passed awkwardly. Towards the end, Howl finally realized – _this_ – _she _was what he was holding out for, waiting for. That moment when he didn’t know what to do with himself; that moment when he felt like he could act the world’s biggest fool just to see her smile; that moment when he felt that urge to make sure no other person could flirt with her; that moment when he felt like he could be scolded and bossed around by her for the rest of his life.

“Sophie Hatter,” he began, a little breathless.

“Howl Jenkins,” she followed up, laughter sparkling in her eyes. 

His heart did that flip-flop thing again. “I think I’m going to quit being a host. At that time—”

She looked at him, disbelief and surprise colouring her next words. “Wha—”

But Howl didn’t give her a chance to finish her question.

“—will you be my girlfriend?”


End file.
